


A Soulful Story

by Sink_into_the_Darkness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Murder, Child Abuse, F/M, Horcruxes, M/M, mind magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 22:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sink_into_the_Darkness/pseuds/Sink_into_the_Darkness
Summary: Rosalie Potter is a brilliant but withdrawn child who spends all her life inside her head. Unknowingly organizing her mind with Occlumency she encounters something strange inside her self-created world that changes the course of her destiny.





	1. Vivid Imaginings

**Author's Note:**

> Any ideas or responses are welcome!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

I have always enjoyed the darker Harry Potter fics, so I have decided to try out my own. Please enjoy.  
I own nothing but the combination of words that I’ve typed out before you.

Chapter 1…Vivid Imaginings

Imagination is a powerful tool, for a child there is no limit to what they can imagine. For a wizarding child the imagination is even more powerful because it essentially is visualization. With magic, visualization and desire becomes reality.

Of course, there are limitations to what a single magic user can fabricate, but I digress.

Our story begins with this simple, overlooked tool. We will explore what power emerges from a lonely and isolated child who turns inward to escape her horrific reality.

\----------

The walls pressed close and she couldn’t breathe. Despite how many hours and days she had spent cowered in her cupboard, Rosalie could never relax. It was too small inside, she couldn’t even stand and the dark space made her afraid.

Clenching her eyes shut the seven-year-old child tried to remember something happy, bright and open. But she had no happy memories to recall, no bright experiences, and no family to draw comfort from. She shivered, pulling the ratty baby blanket over her shoulders, gooseflesh breaking out along her arms.

Trying to distract herself she recalled the first book she had gotten to read, as she only started reading aloud in class. It was a picture book about a beautiful princess living in a grand castle, there were horses and trees and even a small lake! The princess loved to explore her father’s castle and she would hide from her nurse-maid by ducking into the kitchens, disguising herself as a servant. Rosalie smiled to herself and relaxed into the images, finding comfort in the story coming alive behind her eyes.

But soon she couldn’t remember any more of the story and the fear trickled back in. With renewed vigor she clutched tighter at her blanket and decided to make her own castle, with secret rooms and tall towers, deep dungeon kitchens and huge ballrooms, with grand fireplaces. She imagined a room for herself, with thousands of pillows; great big ones as large as a bed, long furry ones that she could stretch out on, small pillows she could throw and stack. She preoccupied herself for a long while, detailing everything she could think of.

Sleep claimed her soon after.

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The next day as she was doing chores for Aunt Petunia, Rosalie continued to build her castle. As she scrubbed the dirty floors she pictured long halls with white stone floors, cleaning the windows she dreamed of vivid green drapes to match her eyes. Helping her Aunt cook she drooled with the thought of a banquet table filled to the brim with sweet pastries, and thick stews, plentiful fruit baskets and her favorite, Bacon.

Chores went by much quicker now that she had happy thoughts to distract her, even Dudders couldn’t ruin her mood. Not when she was building her horses’ stables and thinking about all the animals she could have in her castle. Animals were much nicer than people.

By the end of the day she had built most of the castle including her mommy and daddy’s room. It had a giant bed made of dark wood, with shelves filled with pictures of their family adventures, her mommy’s dressing room would be filled with the most beautiful dresses and crowns and necklaces that Rosalie giggled in delight.

A harsh slap shocked her out of her day-dreams.

“Shut up you vapid freak,” her Aunt sneered at her, “You’ve been lollygagging all day with a stupid grin on your face, I can’t stand to look at you!” Tears gathered in Rosalie’s eyes, her horrible family couldn’t even let her be happy in her own head.

She was grabbed roughly and thrown against the back wall of her cupboard, the force causing many of the spiders to fall. Darkness once again enveloped her and she couldn’t repress her tears. Rosalie curled into a ball under her threadbare blanket and imagined that she was running in the grass towards a lake, her castle standing proudly in the background. It was all she had, these impossible dreams.

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It wasn’t long before Rosalie realized that objects were beginning to show up in her castle, things that she hadn’t decided she wanted there, so while everyone else in class was reciting things with the teacher she sunk deeper into her seat and lifted the book to hide her face from view.

Closing her eyes she felt herself fall into the dark, slowly the grand entrance hall shimmered into existence in her mind becoming sharper every second. The marble under her feet reflected back her own image and she grinned. The details she added were staying longer and required less focus to up keep.

As she looked up she noticed a scary looking suit of armor that looked like it might fit Uncle Vernon. That was definitely a new addition, one that she didn’t put there. Rosalie scrunched her brow in confusion, it didn’t make sense for things to just pop up in her imaginary kingdom without her say-so. She stepped up to the garish dark metal and made to move the arms on the armor into a different position, thinking that she could at least make it look less intimidating.

The moment her imaginary hand touched the armor she was thrown into a dark and terrible memory, the night Uncle Vernon blew up because she was taking too long in the tub. She gasped and gurgled and thrashed in her seat. Distantly she heard screaming, which confused her because how could she hear screaming when she was being held under the water, drowning in the tub? With no air in her lungs darkness enveloped her vision and consciousness faded.

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The punishment that night was uninventive but awful all the same, another weekend without food.

Rosalie really didn’t understand what happened at school, but the teacher tried to explain to Aunt Petunia that she had a seizure and started coughing up water. Rosalie didn’t know what a seizure was but it made Aunt Petunia mad.

She huddled closer to the wall of her cupboard and closed her eyes, she decided that in her kingdom, she could float on the water and would never have to go under, she also stopped touching objects that she didn’t remember creating. Bad things happened when she did.

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It has been three days and four nights since she left her cupboard. The bucket in the corner smelt horrid and she stopped needing to pee. Two days since she had some water, Rosalie felt sick. She couldn’t even sit up straight without feeling dizzy and like she wanted to throw up, but her stomach was empty.

Her hands shook as she pulled back her hair and tried to look outside the cupboard through the crack under the door, the TV was on but she couldn’t tell if anyone was in the living room. Sitting up, she almost fainted and her vision went black, her head spun and she felt fuzzy but her vision came back quickly. She was so thirsty that it was even hard to swallow. Rosalie took a deep breath and relaxed against the door, nothing left to do now except wait till her punishment was over. She closed her eyes and allowed the vision of her castle to materialize.

In the weeks since she started building the castle in her mind, it had fleshed out a lot. Sometimes rooms disappeared when she couldn’t remember or focus hard enough but she kept at it, even using her drawing period at school to make simple maps of the place. But by now she knew the hallways and rooms and entrances and alcoves like it was her own home, she spent the most of her time in her parent’s bedroom looking at pictures that her mind created, of times she never got to experience. But today everything had an edge to it, more solid than Rosalie remembered. Spending little time deciding what she wanted to do, she scurried to the kitchen, if she couldn’t eat food she could at least imagine eating her fill. So she took a left at the entry hall and found the stairs leading to the kitchen, but as she approached she felt a shudder pass through the ground under her. It was all in her head so she was safe, she told herself. But curious as she was her body broke out in gooseflesh, her hair standing on end.

Cautiously she walked deeper into the dungeons, feeling strangely lost in the castle of her own making. Another shudder passed through the stones and she wondered how she could go deeper, as she thought this grinding stones made her turn around to see a small stairwell going down into the earth. With a thought she had a flashlight in her hands and she tiptoed down the steps. They curved strangely, like stairs would in a tower, and the deeper she went the more she could feel something strange, almost like the walls around her were vibrating with an unseen energy.

It didn’t smell damp and dark like a basement would, it smelt like cinnamon and sharp metallic tang of iron. The deeper she went the brighter the stairwell became until she stood in front of a well lit door.

The door itself was very plain, except for the small snakes carved into the metal hinges. Rosalie swallowed hard, noticing that it was a lot easier than when she was sitting in her cupboard, she reached out a hand and tried to turn the doorknob. It wouldn’t budge. Huffing in frustration she imagined a key and sure enough one popped into existence, but it was obviously the wrong match to fit the keyhole in front of her.

Wondering how it was possible that there was a door inside her head that she couldn’t open, Rosalie took some time to figure out what she could do. Another tremble passed and she had a moment of realization. In Dudders’ bedroom he once slammed the door so hard that it broke off the hinges! Even when he locked the door you could still pull the bottom corner out far enough that she could slip through. So she imagined she had a tool that Uncle Vernon once used that she thought was called a prying bar. Wedging it between the wood of the door and the metal hinges she yanked them free of the door. When both hinges were removed she pushed with all her might and the door groaned open.


	2. The Encounter

Chapter 2…The Encounter

 

When both hinges were removed she pushed with all her might and the door groaned open. 

Rosalie sidled through the gap and stared ahead nervously. The doorway, while well lit on one side, was achingly lightless on the other side, small beams of light reaching out into the un-ending darkness. It seemed to be a huge open chamber, deep under her castle. Another rumble went through the floor and the walls around her – this was definitely where the source of the shaking was located. She was unsure of what she should do next.

Was it dangerous to continue? Could she even be hurt inside her head?

Her mind jumped to almost drowning in the classroom at school due to a memory, so she wasn’t so sure she was safe here. Rosalie felt a cold trickle slide down her spine the air was suddenly alive like it was charged with electricity, and the burn of cinnamon grew stronger.

Unable to deny her curiosity, even in the face of possible danger, Rosalie wished for a flashlight and took the first step deeper into the blank space ahead. As soon as she left the threshold the light from outside dimmed down till all that was left was the weak beam her torchlight gave, a small thing compared to the heavy pressure of the darkness around her. 

As she walked she noticed that it wasn’t silent, in fact the whole room was humming low almost unnoticeable, and that sometimes she thought heard whispers (likely only the blood rushing through her ears).

“He-hello?” she tried, hoping to provoke a reaction of some sort.

_'It hurts…'_

Rosalie whipped around, “Who said that?” Her vibrant eyes were wide with fear. ' _Help me…it hurts…'_

Who was it? Why was there someone in her head? How was she supposed to help?

“Are you real?” she asked the darkness

 _'I’m broken…help….Come closer..._ ' the darkness answered back.

Rosalie pulled her chin up and shook off her fear, “Which way?” In answer to her question thousands of thin silver threads shot out towards her, creating a shining path. Far ahead there was a bright glow where the threads ended and she squinted, peering past her hand hoping to see what was at the end. No such luck, it was too bright to see anything. So she moved forward, hoping to come to the end of this mystery.

 

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The sight before her was really quite scary and Rosalie wasn’t sure how such horrific things were made in her head. But at the end of the silvery path what she found was gruesome. It was a baby, or…what looked like a baby. Its skin was torn and bleeding all over; and it was skinny, like it was dying, with cheekbones sticking out sharply. The truly bizarre thing about it all was the tightly woven gold and silver threads that covered every inch, it was wrapped so thickly it looked like a shimmering golden cocoon with only the head visible above the mess.

The thing whimpered and its eyes cracked open. Blood red inhuman eyes stared back at her, this was definitely not a baby.

 _'Release me…it hurts…'_ the thing opened its mouth, but its lips did not move. Heart thumping furiously in her chest, Rosalie raised her hand and touched the bleeding thing. It leaned its head into her hand, like it was starved of contact. She immediately began pulling at the threads, trying to unweave them from the top, but every time she got one a little loose, the thread would wind tighter and the pieces would snap as if very brittle. The longer she struggled with the cocoon the more it seemed to come alive, the threads now sliding together and knotting quickly and making a mess.

Rosalie huffed, frustrated and tore at a handful of threads with all her strength. The cords snapped and she fell, the thing cried out in a horrible gargle and hissed at her.

 _'Ssstop! It hurts, no more….'_ She felt bad for hurting it but she didn’t know how to help. “It’s not working, how am I supposed to get that stuff off?” she ran her hands through her hair in exasperation. The baby-thing sneered at her with no teeth.

 _'Cut it_ …' it spit out.

She pulled herself up and willed scissors to appear, they did. So she set about cutting the threads away and unwinding them, the loose ones wiggled as if blown in the wind, alive with some force. As the threads fell away Rosalie had to hold back the majority from slowly wrapping around the creature again, till there was enough space to pull the small body through the mess.

Then she cradled it, unbothered by the gruesome mess of blood; too busy trying to understand what was happening. The creature, freed looked worse now that most of it wasn’t concealed. Its limbs were longer than normal, and its face was mature, but small. Overall the thing looked like a shrunken adult who was mummified yet still alive. It was pathetic.

Why are you in here? Who are you? What happened to you? What should I do? She wanted to yell the questions out loud, but the thing looked tired and she figured it would talk when it was ready.

Rocking it gently Rosalie wiped off the blood from around its face, its eyes opened in response and it hissed again, pulling away.

 _'Set me down!'_ it struggled against her hold. “You’re hurt, stop that…Will you please tell me what’s happening?” she asked, panic and confusion obvious in her tone.

It stared at her with those unnerving eyes, ' _Rosalie Potter, you are a witch I am a wizard. We are in your mindscape, I was trapped inside of you, bound by the magic you just tore away. I can feel your body dying, but I see that you are very young. I only want to help.'_

Rosalie almost dropped it in shock; witch, magic, mindscape, dying! How could she be dying, she was lying in her cupboard right now, this was all her imagination. Wasn’t it?

She gave no response but allowed her mind to sort out what the ‘wizard’ just revealed. The impossible things that happened around her could be explained by magic, she was always aware of that, but for that to happen to her? She was magical, just plain old Rosalie Potter was magical? Her heart wanted to believe. But magic was impossible.

Memories came flooding, all her life flashing unwillingly before her eyes, followed by a sharp pain. Rosalie cried out and the small body held in her arms fell, its gaze disconnecting from hers. Her head hurt terribly and she backed away from the thing, correctly assuming that he caused that pain.

“What did you do?” she panicked, clutching at her head.

It was sitting up on its own now, head tilted at her its expression blank.

_'I’ve decided to help you, I cannot sustain myself like this. My form is too unstable, that magic was essentially holding me together.'_

Rosalie opened her mouth to respond but he shushed her with a sharp jab of his boney hand, she found she couldn’t speak.

_'After viewing your memories it is obvious that if I leave you to your own devices, our continued survival is not guaranteed. If you die, I die. The only thing that can protect you from those disgusting Muggles is your magic. So I will give you what knowledge I can, and I will fuse with you to make sure we both live. You will most likely never meet this version of me again, but I warn you Rosalie Potter, accept your power. Do not fear it or allow others to keep you from it. For it will be the only thing standing between you and tremendous pain.'_

Her mouth hung open in confusion and shock, too much was happening and Rosalie was hopelessly lost. The thing reached out for her and she reflexively picked him up. He looked deeply into her eyes and said, ' _I look forward to our destiny Miss Potter.'_  and he pressed his finger into her scar.

 

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Rosalie’s eyes snapped open suddenly, disturbing a fine layer of ash over her eyelids. Panic was slow to consume her, but consume her it did. Her body would not move; other than shifting her eyes, she could not twitch a muscle.

Heart thudding in her chest, and terribly groggy and confused, Rosalie squinted in the darkness noticing the rancid smell mixed in with burnt wood. Her breathing grew ragged and she choked on the ash covering her face and mouth, the lack of oxygen causing her head to spin.

Just as she began to fear that whatever had happened in her mind had permanently disabled her, her feet and hands began burning. Stinging like all circulation had stopped hours ago, but despite the pain Rosalie welcomed the feeling in her limbs. As she calmed her breathing the exhausted child strained to hear if the Dursleys were up and about. 

Rose was surprised they hadn’t at least opened the door to remove the source of the horrid stench coming from her cupboard, but it was possible they had gone somewhere over the weekend. Anger flared through her as she recalled what the creature had told her, ‘ _I can feel your body dying...’_

How dare the Dursleys attempt to kill her? She was Petunia’s flesh and blood. She was only seven! No normal family would lock a seven year-old child in a cupboard to die while they left for a family trip. Rose ground her teeth together and clenched her fists.

She had almost lost her life to the monsters she called family. This went beyond acceptable, beyond normality. This was against everything the Dursleys stood for, so how could she listen to their justifications now? She would never find love or support, or even a kind word from these people. They were hardly more than monstrous strangers.

_Rosalie Potter, you are a witch, I am a wizard…it is obvious that if I leave you to your own devices, our continued survival is not guaranteed. If you die, I die. The only thing that can protect you from those disgusting Muggles is your magic.’_

Thinking of ways to bring about the result she wanted took hours. But slowly the static feeling she associated with all the strange events invading her life began to grow. The sensation centered in her stomach and radiated out towards her chest and arms, with a faint trickle down to her legs and feet.

Pain made Rose cry out when her arms and legs regained enough motion to pull herself up.

She look down at her lap, a pile of ashes had collected there when she sat up. Her clothes had obviously burned off her body, whatever had burned them had also done the damage to the wood inside her cupboard. It was as if something she had done in her castle had set fire to her room, yet left her untouched. How much more proof did she need?

Gathering her strength and determination she placed her hands over where she knew the lock to be.

Once she had solid focus on the energy that she assumed was her magic she pushed the flow of it into her hands. Immediately heat accompanied the pins and needles feeling. Where her hands touched the door to her cupboard it felt like the skin was seared. Hissing in pain she pulled her hands away to inspect the skin. They were totally unblemished, if a little flushed.

Light gleamed out of the corner of her eye, Rose looked up to see the porch light flooding through the door-side window. Her cupboard door was slowly swinging open and she could do nothing but stare in shock. Here was her final proof that the creature stuck in her head was more than just a nightmare. Magic was real and she was a Witch.

 

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A quick sweep of the house revealed that the Dursleys did indeed leave on vacation. The date shining from the answering machine also revealed that six days had come and gone while she was shut-away. It was 2:13am Friday morning that Rose came to the grim conclusion that a legitimate attempt had been made against her life. The creature was right, if she was going to make it out of this house alive she needed to gain control of her magic. 

Naturally Rose had no preconceived notions or ideas from fairytales that every child is raised knowing. Other than the few books in her classroom’s library, she was a blank slate, an empty cup that desperately needed to be filled. 

This singular intense desire burned in her heart. Without magic she would die, and she very much wanted to live.

She wanted a home with a warm bed. She wanted someone to hold her close, to tell her she was wanted. And if she didn’t change something she would never live to see what life was like outside the Dursley home.

Rose took the opportunity to hop in the shower, for the first time getting to use hot water and the floral soaps Petunia kept in her products drawer. She washed away the thick ashes smeared against her skin. She couldn’t even begin to make a guess as to the true cause. The worst of it was washing it out of her hair; it felt coarse and was hopelessly tangled. She delighted in squirting three handfuls of a lavender smelling conditioner that she soaked into the worst of the snarls.

After the best rinse of her young life she hopped out and toweled off.

Looking into the mirror she noticed a key element missing.

“Where’d my glasses go?”

Her glasses were gone and yet she could see perfectly! Then she looked closer and noticed her scar was healed over, rather than being dark red like it was fresh and agitated it was pale and thin, well hidden under her fringe of dark hair.

Curious she dropped her towel and twisted sharply, trying to view the back of her leg, looking for her biggest scar. All that she could she was fresh unblemished skin. Her knees too were scar-free and her legs slightly thicker. Inspecting her face she surmised that even though starvation and dehydration is what almost killed her, she looked healthier than when she went into the cupboard.

A few more minutes of frustration ended when Rose decided to write it of as an act of magic.

When she realized that all the contents of her cupboard were burned to a crisp she cautiously made her way into her Aunt’s wardrobe, she found a green blouse that was long enough to act as a dress on her short frame. Now that she had clothes she decided to practice some magic before her tormentors returned.

A chair from the kitchen was chosen and she pulled it down the steps into the back yard. Rose set the chair under the lone maple tree and ran back inside for something to practice on returning with a kitchen knife, a ball of Dudley’s, and a heavy briefcase.

Rose once had a teacher say, “You can do anything that you put your mind to.” Well, if magic worked like that then maybe all it took was a little focus. So she sat on the chair and closed her eyes, visualizing the ball of tangled light that she imagined her magic looked like, swirling in her core,

The feeling returned, and she sighed happily at how fast it responded. Pulling on the energy she directed it to the objects in front of her. She opened her eyes and imagined that her magic touched the ball and the phantom feeling met her when it connected. She pushed intently and willed the ball to fly over the fence but a loud ‘POP’ startled an “EEEEEEEPP!” out of her. The force of the small explosion sent most of the debris over the fence but Rose sheepishly picked up the ball’s remains and tossed them in the street bin against the fence.

A light haze was beginning to brighten the sky as she settled down to continue. The knife proved more difficult to feel with her magic, and almost impossible to pick up; Rose cover the whole object with the energy but it almost seemed to slip out of it sluggishly like quick sand. She could make it a few feet off the ground before the tip dipped to the floor and the whole thing dropped, stabbing into the dirt.

Not only was her frustration building with each attempt but her hands began shaking as well. While sweat dripped from her hair into her and down her neck.

The daunting task that stood before her wore down on her more than before, not knowing when they would return made it that much worse. She reached out again pushing all her strength into it. This time the magic lashed out whipping to the side violently and flinging the knife with it. Thankfully it flew into the bushed and out of sight.

Disheartened Rose got off the chair and collected the briefcase. She set it down near the door and pulled out a glass, realizing that she could have anything she wanted she raided the fridge. Two full servings of orange juice later and Rose was well on her way to making breakfast 

While eating she took the time to really think about a better way to do things. Using magic in real life was very different from making things appear in her castle. Everything was so east there.

With that thought came another: she met the creature in her castle, meaning that she could learn new things from inside her palace. Maybe she could ask for a library on magic, or a magic statue that could give her lessons. With this idea she excitedly ran to the living room. Feeling the chill from the central air she grabbed a blanket and settled into Vernon’s lazy boy.

She quickly constructed her castle and made her way through the front doors. Her entrance hall was slightly different than the last time she walked through, directly across from the entrance were large double doors. Curious she walked towards them and felt hope at what she saw. A library stretched as far as her eyes could see.

Tall shelves towered above her, and a narrow balcony lined the edge of the room, but there was no ladder or stairway she could see that led up to the upper level. The loft level of the library held both books and scrolls organized in small diamond shaped slots. Large chandeliers were suspended from the highest ceiling she had ever seen and squishy armchairs were spaced evenly along the rows.

“Holy Crap, it worked!”

Rose ran among the lines of shelves and stopped when she found a small couch in front of a giant stone fireplace. She turned to inspect one of the shelves skimming the titles; _A Thousand Herbs and Where to Find Them, Magical Fungi and Spores, Ernie’s Guide to Plant Preparation, Applied Herbology_ amongst other titles.

This was exactly what she needed; an entire magical library!

“Potter! Stop playing around-”

Rosalie jerked violently, the book she was examining tumbling to the floor, yet looking around she couldn’t find its source.

“Where are you?”

“Follow the wall until the rows turn right, I am in an alcove.”

Rose began walking in that direction, scrunching her forehead she wondered, “What is an alcove?”

“ _Ignorant brat, the space tucked into the wall, here.”_

Rose turned the corner and came face to face with a living photograph, in the ‘alcove’: a Portrait of a handsome young man hung low on the wall. In the corner a small iron stove led a pipe out of the wall and across from the picture was a thickly cushioned lounge chair. 

“Who’re you?” burst out of her mouth.

“My name is Tom Marvolo, we met earlier.”

“Did we? I only met the creature bound in the cocoon of light.”

“Well you did free me, this is what I looked like before certain magics altered my form, and before more ancient magic bound me inside of you.”

Here the man in the portrait tilted his head and examined her. His gaze felt like judgment and his expression remained unimpressed. “I believe your desire for instruction and the visualization of a library helped give shape to my awareness, which thankfully was not absorbed into yours fully. If you come here I should be able to direct you to the knowledge that you seek, and give you advice on matters.”

“If I may ask, what is on the second floor?”

“The second floor is a collection of my personal memories and the basis of my personality. It is strictly off limits to you, if you want my help. Understood?”

Rose just nodded meekly.

“Good, then hurry now, conjure up a pen and paper, we don’t have much time to spare. Those vermin will be back any day. We have a lot to cover before you can safely threaten anyone.”

 


End file.
